


White Nights

by Delphi



Series: Black and White and Red All Over [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Late at Night, M/M, Romance, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Severus is a sound sleeper and Argus wants points for attendance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Consent Play card as part of Kink Bingo's April 2011 mini-challenge. Kink: "Sleepy/Unconscious"

The longcase clock outside the Great Hall had already chimed midnight by the time Argus worked up the nerve to sneak into the Slytherin dormitory. The first night of a holiday was always a nightmare, and while Easter might be the least disruptive, he nonetheless refused to so much as glance in the direction of the dungeons until he was certain that Professor Slughorn was liquored up and gone to bed, Himself had left for the weekend, and any potential troublemakers with spring fever had been rounded up and secured.

Only then, carrying a lamp and a flask of hot chocolate, did he venture down a certain staircase and stealthily tug on a wall sconce that opened up the hidden door to the sixth-year boys’ lodgings.

It was quiet and dark inside the dormitory. Argus halted just over the threshold, sweeping the lamp around and noting the missing trunks and the shameful untidiness that always accompanied hurried packing. Then, out of caution, he began checking the beds, ensuring each was truly empty as he made his way towards the one at the very end.

_“I’ll be staying for the holiday,” Severus announced, frowning down at one of his schoolbooks._

_“That so?” Argus was in the midst of fixing a broken curtain rod and torn set of drapes, the victims of Hufflepuff shenanigans. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t supposed to have students in the workroom, but the worry of being caught providing a private study space to a prefect had faded some, considering what else he’d been doing with said prefect for the last six months._

_“I’ll have the dormitory to myself.”_

_Argus paused, uncertain as to whether he was supposed to ask if there was a reason the boy wasn’t going home. He decided to play it safe. “It’ll be quiet, then. Good for getting some reading done.”_

_Severus looked up from his book and heaved an impatient sigh, rolling his eyes as if Argus had dramatically missed the point._

_It took him several seconds, but he got there eventually. “...really?”_

_The boy shrugged indifferently, but a touch of pink arose on his cheeks. “I’ll be bored, with everyone away.”_

He could hear soft breathing when he reached the last bed, but only just. His heartbeat was hammering in his ears as he set down the lamp and flask on the bedside table next to a heap of books. He hooked a finger in between the bed curtains and then hesitated, looking around in case the headmaster was going to spring out from behind the wardrobe and catch him in the act. There was no fooling himself. If he was caught in a student's bed, it wouldn’t be the sack for him. He wasn’t worth the potential scandal. He’d simply disappear, and if he were very, very lucky, he might wake up in a ditch in Germany with his brains scrambled and his balls cut off.

Yet he twitched open the curtains nonetheless. A beam of lamplight cut across the bed, and in its faint glow, Severus lay fast asleep, half curled on his side, facing the wall.

The pounding in Argus’s chest refused to ease, joined by the peculiar pressure he felt just about every time he laid eyes on the boy. This—whatever _this_ was—wasn’t the self-satisfied, guiltless pleasure of nicking drinks out of the staff liquor cabinet. Rather, he felt as he had when he was young and new to the job, learning his way around repairing things worth more than he would ever make in a lifetime. As though he had something rare and breakable in his hands, and any minute now somebody was going to realise he couldn’t be trusted with it.

Should he wake him? Despite a day of building anticipation and fidgeting with his hands in his pockets, he was tempted to let the boy sleep. Severus stayed up too late as it was, always studying or keeping an eye out for Gryffindor mischief. On the other hand, he didn’t want Severus to doubt that he had turned up. Better, perhaps, to disturb him and be sent on his way without so much as a kiss than let the boy think him faithless.

He sat down carefully at the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped, but Severus didn’t stir. Argus licked his lips. The boy was particular about being stared at, and it wasn’t often he got the opportunity just to look at him. Severus Snape wasn't a pretty boy, or even a handsome one, really. Truth be told, Argus probably wouldn’t have been able to trust him if he was. There was something about him, though, all dark and queer-mannered as he was. Different. Odd. A natural exception, if that’s what a man had to tell himself.

The boy was throwing heat like the boiler. Argus felt it as he leaned in closer, brushing the back of his hand over a cheek that was still just as smooth at midnight as at noon. He buried his nose in the crook of the boy’s neck, smelling the school soap, and tooth powder, and the sweaty scent of too-warm flesh under heavy covers.

He slowly rolled down the duvet. Severus shifted, his breathing interrupted for a moment as he rubbed his cheek against the pillow. His nightshirt had ridden up, baring both knees and a significant length of bare thigh. Argus fingered the worn hem, unable to resist the urge to ease it up a little further, inch by inch, until it was above Severus’s hips.

Now that was a pretty sight. For such a skinny thing, the boy had a backside you could bounce a freshly minted knut off. Argus stroked it fondly, and Severus stirred again, this time humming a soft questioning sound.

“Shh,” Argus said, his thumb dipping between the boy’s cheeks. “S’just me.”

He didn’t know if Severus had surfaced far enough to properly understand him, but the second hum was warmer, and the boy burrowed his face contentedly into the pillow again.

His hands wandered, following a winding path from knee to hip and up under the nightshirt to rub little circles on the boy’s taut stomach and smooth, narrow chest. It half felt like a stranger. Severus was wound-up clockwork half the time, and if he had ever been this sweet and loose under Argus’s touch, it was only after a good hard tumble, and briefly, in the minute or two before they stopped tempting fate and got their clothes done up again.

The boy’s cock was still mostly soft, but warm and heavy when he got it in his hand. This too was new. Severus was seventeen, randy and unchoosy—the whole basis for their arrangement—and he had always been ready to go by the time Argus got a hand in his robes. Now he hardened slowly as Argus played with him, teasing his foreskin back and forth in time with his deep, even breathing. Severus’s fingers curled around the sheet and his hips started to gently rock.

Argus’s breath grew heavy as he watched, and he had to let him go for a moment to let his coat slip to the floor and to pull off his boots before fully joining him on the bed.

Severus made a petulant sound, nudging forward to frot against the mattress.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” Argus murmured, catching him and giving him an apologetic rub.

With his free hand, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers for a little breathing room. God help him, the boy did things to him. He’d heard once that the doses of Husband’s Helper they sold in the back room of apothecaries were brewed from the spunk of teenage boys, and he was inclined to believe it, if this was what getting it from the source had wrought.

He experimented, listening to the subtle changes in Severus’s breathing when he varied the angle of his strokes. Brushing his thumb over the slit of the boy’s cock earned a hitching breath. Gently tumbling his stones brought a sigh. Argus always meant to do well by him, but awake, the boy was a writhing insistence of sharp elbows and frantic hips, looking for nothing but friction, making it hard to figure out good from better.

Now, Severus was practically melted against him, pliant as a doll in his arms as Argus rubbed against him, feeling the difference between a lean thigh, and the hollow at the small of the boy's back, and the snug space between his cheeks that made Severus arch with a rough, needy sound.

Argus’s mouth ran dry. This wasn’t something he’d had to bargain for. The boy loved it and no mistake. “Want a little more, hm?”

Severus didn’t answer, save to press back harder against him.

He reached into his pocket for the tin of soft paraffin. The lid was immediately lost somewhere in the duvet, but he got a dollop on his fingers and rubbed them together to take the chill away. Then he was smoothly rubbing over that rough pucker, making Severus dreamily writhe between his hands.

There was no startled tension in the shoulders, no sharply indrawn breath. His finger slid in smooth as silk, and Severus muttered something indistinct, half-muffled in the pillow but encouraging in tone. Argus warmed up another dab of salve and soon had another finger inside, two going in as sweet and easy as one. For a moment, dizzy in the dark, he thought about taking the boy back to his room some night and doing this for hours. As long as Severus could stand it. Fingering him, stroking him off nice and slow, and seeing if he could make the boy just as hot and lazy and lush when he wasn’t half-dreaming.

His cock brushed against the boy’s leg, leaving a little smear. “Just a little more, eh?” he whispered, more pleading than teasing now as he reached for the tin and slicked himself up generously.

Severus mumbled something agreeably, then pushed himself back hard enough that Argus only narrowly avoided a Glasgow kiss.

“Shh,” he said, steadying him. He put a hand under Severus’s thigh and guided his leg up. “There we go, sweetheart...”

He rubbed against the slick, open heat of him and then pressed in slowly. Severus’s breathing changed, pausing for a moment and then coming out in a rush.

“Oh,” Severus said. Then he squirmed, shaking his head against the pillow and squeezing down around Argus’s cock. “ _Oh_.”

Argus froze, stopping where he was.

“Jesus,” Severus muttered. “Thought I was...sleeping. Dreaming. Bugger.”

A hand clumsily found Argus’s hip and dug in, trying to pull him in closer. Argus obliged, curling around the boy and sinking into him. He held still for a moment and then, when the boy squirmed impatiently, began a slow, rocking rhythm. Severus breathed an almost inaudible "yes," thrusting into the loose grip of Argus’s hand.

Argus shut his eyes, letting the warm darkness settle around him. Every little sound seemed dangerously loud in the empty dormitory. The rustle of the sheets and clothing. The damp rub and thrust of skin on skin. The little half-hiccup that Severus let out when the head of Argus’s cock nudged him just right inside. He wondered if he might have to clap a hand over Severus's mouth the way he sometimes had to in the workroom when the boy was getting it good and loving it, but if Severus wasn't sleeping, then he wasn't entirely awake either, and all the sounds he made were warm and low and under his breath.

The pleasure in him had sunk low, knotted tight and hot at the root of him. Any faster and he would have made an embarrassment of himself, but as it was he managed to hold out until Severus's breathing doubled, growing harsh as the boy was taken by a long, rolling shiver. Argus could hear the wobble in the boy's quiet cry. Felt him tremble against him, around him, beneath him. It was all Argus could stand, his hand wringing every last tremor from the boy as his thrusts quickened for six strokes, a dozen, just urgent enough to make the bed curtains sway. Then he eased again, pushing in deep, savouring. His forehead came to rest upon the boy’s shoulder for nearly a full minute as he rode out the quiet fall.

“I am not sleeping on sticky sheets,” Severus said eventually, his voice rough with sleep but clearer than it had been before.

Argus let out a hard breath. “All right.”

Slowly, he withdrew. He sat back, and for a moment, the lamplight spilled in through the gap in the curtains just right, illuminating the sight of Severus on his belly, his nightshirt rucked up and his pale backside glinting with smudges of slick.

“Come on, lazybones,” Argus said, giving him a hand up.

A few minutes later, Severus was ensconced in a chair with the duvet wrapped around him. He was sipping chocolate from the flask and watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Argus stripped off the bed and replaced the sheets with those from the next bed. The house-elves in charge of laundry were accustomed to dealing with embarrassing stains and crumpled up sheets crammed into odd spots in the castle.

“There you go.” Argus patted the cool, fresh bedding, and Severus shuffled over and flopped down on the mattress. Argus tried to tuck the duvet back around him properly, but the boy saw it coming and waved him off with an irritated scoff.

“Don’t be stupid,” Severus said, snuggling back down tiredly.

“All right,” he said, his hand falling.

He moved to retrieve his things, but to his surprise, the boy reached for him before he could leave. Baffled, he stared down at the pale fingers clutching at his shirt sleeve.

“Same time tomorrow night?” Severus asked quietly.

There it was, that pressure in his chest again. Argus had to swallow down a lump in his throat before he could reply. He patted the boy on the head, and his hand lingered there for a moment, smoothing down sleep-tousled hair despite Severus’s half-hearted attempt to duck out from under it.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.


End file.
